


Telephone

by SickSiren



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Happy Ending, Non-Graphic Violence, argent makes the briefest of appearances, its b4 the start of rebirth so, its julia and my sidestep yvette, sidestep doesn't really say much so like. open to interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 19:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SickSiren/pseuds/SickSiren
Summary: Julia asked why Sidestep never called her when they thought she was dead. So I said fuck that, she totally would have.





	Telephone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyreios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyreios/gifts).

The calls started two years ago while Ortega was cooking.

“Hello?” The line was silent. Julia pulled back for a moment to check the number, but it wasn’t one she recognized. It could be a wild fan or another Ranger, but she doubted anyone would give out her number like that. “Who is this?”

There was a small click. The kitchen timer screamed almost immediately afterwards and Julia cursed as she fought to keep her pancakes from burning.

After a cursory attempt at asking the other Rangers if they knew about the mystery number, she put it down to a wrong number. She’s in the middle of a quick boxing session when her phone rings again.

“Hey, what’s up?” She puffs and takes the excuse to sit down. There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side, but nothing else. “Are you the same person from last time?”

They don’t respond, but they don’t hang up either.

“Guess it is. I have to go soon, I’m in the middle of boxing.” Actually, they called almost the moment she needed a break. She was getting tired faster and faster as she got older. Not that Steel would accept that excuse. It was almost easier to talk without a response. “Why are you calling me? Are you in danger?”

The call ended, but Julia had expected that, too.

The third time, she didn’t even get the chance to pick up.

The rubble is heavy on top of her, crushing the mods that protect her center, that should have saved her organs. Instead, the shrapnel of her own design digs in.

She wonders if this is how Yvette felt when she was crushed by Psychopathor.

Or when she jumped out of the window.

Her brain is fuzzy, but the pain is sharp. She knows what broken ribs feel like, but there’s a struggle to get any breath at all. She’s panting and gasping for breath, hitting her head back against the wall behind her to create any sort of noise.

Julia doesn’t have enough power to scream or move. Her hands are trapped with the rest of her.

Twisting and trying to leverage off the remains of the building only makes it worse. There’s a terrifying moment she thinks that her arm is gone, but its only one of her mods fractured inside.

Her whine is high and pitiful as she hears footsteps outside.

“Charge? Charge! Report in!” Steel barks, the closest he’ll get to admitting worry.

‘I’m here,’ she wants to shriek. ‘Help me!’

Her voice is near inaudible and turns into a short cough that makes her feel like she can’t breathe at all. Her chest is too close to her heart, her esophagus closing up in her throat.

Her phone rings.

Of course. Its so well insulated that Ortega may have been destroyed in the fall, but not her phone. It brings a hysterical laugh past her lips.

“What the Hell?” Steel asks, but they’re coming back. The ring is a vibrant noise against the destruction. She would say the outside sounds like dust, the feather light particles falling to the ground, but there is little sound outside of her and her phone.

Her beautiful, beautiful phone.

The part of the wall that collapsed on her comes off. Steel is only slightly worse for wear, but the medics take them both in.

There’s three missed calls.

No, not to Julia. From her. She’d tried calling the stranger while she was first admitted to the hospital. They didn’t pick up.

Now, though, with her phone waking her up near midnight? She couldn’t be more awake as she latches onto the brick from her hospital bed.

“You called back,” Julia answers, sleepy, but delighted. “I thought you wouldn’t.”

There’s shuffling in the background, but no answer.

“You saved me, you know.” There’s a pause in the movements and a short, muffled laugh. “It’s true! I was under some rubble, they found me by your ringtone.”

Even though they won’t respond, Julia’s grin splits her face in half.

“If you won’t talk, how about I tell you about my day? All I’ve had is jello! It’s like they have nothing else to feed me. What I wouldn’t give for chicken alfredo. It’s all I can think about.” Julia falters, then. Sidestep always used to take her out for Hoots when she got hurt, despite claiming to hate the place. In turn, Julia would always make her chicken alfredo.

The line shuts off, but Julia can understand why. She wasn’t planning to continue and it would be pretty silly if they both just sat in silence.

She wakes up with her phone still clutched in her hand.

It’s been two months without a call from her own mysterious stranger and Julia knows better than to call by now. It’s not even that it won’t be picked up.

One time, it was answered.

There was an unnatural crunch and harsh breathing. The crunch broke off cleanly, but it was interrupted only by a strangled cry.

Bone, Julia realized. It sounded like bone.

“96.6 and rising.”

“Get her back on the down trend, she can take it.”

“Whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s-”

This time, there is a scream. The heavy breathing stops abruptly and if Julia strains she can hear the faintest sound of her caller’s chest picking up and forcing her breath back out.

“We’ve reached alpha levels.” There was a small shuffle that Julia recognized as the phone sliding across a surface of some sorts and there’s a desperate moment she tries to trace the call. It goes nowhere and everywhere. The map pings her in Memorial Park and then she’s not even in the west coast. Florida and back to Los Diablos.

“Why the Hell does she have a phone?”

Crunch.

She dropped the phone the moment it went dead.

It didn’t break. Julia did.

There was nothing to be done. No Ranger could find where it came from and the best guess was a human trafficking ring.

Julia kept their contact saved, but she didn’t have high hopes.The number was disconnected.

The next call finds her crying on the bathroom floor. It’s not even a good floor. The charity event was in memory of fallen and retired heroes. Anathema, Sidestep, Owl, and others.

There were too many gentle hands on her shoulders. A few too many apologies.

So, crushed between the wall of the stall and the reeking toilet next to her, Julia isn’t particularly in the mood to answer an unknown call.

“What?” She snaps before she can think better of it.

There’s an all too familiar silence.

“Is that you, stranger?” Julia whispers. It’s not the same number, but why should that matter? It’s them. She knows it is.

There’s a small huff on the other side of the phone. Not dead, then.

“Good, good.” She mutters, sliding down against the wall. “I’m not really in the mood to talk, but don’t hang up, yeah?”

The line is quiet, but every time she checks its still connected.

Soon, little signs of life worm their way through. Footsteps, a tea kettle whistling, and the clink of a fork against a bowl. A television turns on to the news and then to cartoons. Soon, it almost feels domestic. As if she was back home, settling in for dinner, two people so occupied with their food they forgot to speak.

A strong hand knocks on the stall’s door.

“I have to go. Thank you.” Julia murmurs. It’s the first time she’s hung up on the stranger, but she figures they won’t mind. Her tears have long since dried and it only takes a brush of her hands to rub off the trails of salt.

“Are you alright?” Argent asks, looking distinctly uncomfortable. She shifts from foot to foot and leans back and forth on the balls of her feet. She won’t meet Julia’s eyes.

“Yes,” she replies. She means it, too.

Argent looks doubtful, but jerks her head towards the door. After Julia finishes washing her hands and brushing the dust off her dress, Argent takes her hand. They don’t go back to the event.

It’s always bad this time of the year. Even the newer members know. Julia is quieter, Herald is distant, Steel more strict, and Argent… is Argent.

There’s been a near constantly lit candle on the receptionist’s desk. They get a new employee occasionally, but they never question it.

It smells like citrus. Fresh orange peels. It mixes strangely with the lemon scented cleaner they have to use to get the blood and muck off the floors, but it works.

She knows she won’t get any work done today, but the conspiracy board is staring at her menacingly. It takes far too much effort to flip it over, but it’s done. One of the photos falls off, but Julia can’t be bothered to pick it up.

Her phone rings. It’s a once-weekly thing now, no more large gaps or back to back calls.

“Hey, stranger,” she greets on instinct. Her voice is tired, but she can’t begrudge the fond tone her voice takes. Mostly, Julia will talk about her day and relax into the slight noises coming from the other side. Sometimes, they chop vegetables or are working on something mechanical. Power tools that wait for a pause in Ortega’s speech to get to work.

There’s none of the everyday noise right now.

“You alright?” She asks, knowing she won’t receive an answer. “Usually you’re working on dinner around this time, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Not in the mood, then, huh? That’s okay.” Her eyes wander back to the board with bits of red yarn peeking out. A tack must have fallen off when she moved it. It’d be a test of perception not to step on it in this dim lighting, but she could always get it later.

“Julia.” The voice makes Ortega freeze. First, because she can’t believe they’re saying something. Then, because she knows them. She knows that voice. “I want to come home.”

“Sidestep?” She chokes out before she can help herself. “Yvette? Oh, Yvette, is that you?”

“Can we meet at your place?” She continues, avoiding the question, but it’s an answer all the same.

“Of course, yes, let me just-ow!” she steps on the tack in her rush to get out the door. She steps on it again coming back for her bag. “Yes, I still live on the same street, same apartment, everything. Do you need the address?”

“No, I remember.” Yvette reassures her softly. “I’m waiting outside.”

“Shit, I’m on my way. Don’t hang up, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”


End file.
